A Conspiracy of Epicurean Proportions
by GeminiScorp
Summary: A mysterious illness, an unexpected alliance, and an insightful partner teach Unspeakable Hermione Granger a thing or two about herself.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the HP universe, the wonderful JKR owns it all. **

_**A Conspiracy of Epicurean Proportions ~ Chapter One**_

Hermione slowed her steps as she walked down the hall and watched as the newest Unspeakable preceded her into Director Careme's office. Jessica Waters was pretty, young, vivacious, and unfortunately appeared to be a little on the ditzy side. Hermione had yet to decide if it was just an act or not, but all the same, Jessica was an unusual choice for an Unspeakable. The department had been discreetly whispering and speculating for days on how exactly she'd obtained her position. Everyone wondered _who_ had pulled _whose_ strings to get her the job.

It didn't bode well, Hermione thought ruefully, to be summoned at the same time as this underling. She had the misfortune of being one of the best trainers in the organization and it appeared that she'd be partnered up with a newbie once again. A fat lot of good it did, being exceptional at her job, when she was constantly overlooked for promotion after promotion as the men around her rose through the ranks—men without half the experience and less than half the brains that Hermione had. Ten years was a long time to still be a field agent.

Steeling herself, she pushed open the door, shook the three hands offered her and reluctantly took her seat across from Jessica. There were files spread across the conference table and a projector cart pushed up against the wall. The room held a tension she'd come to associate with the briefing of a new mission. She ignored the cheery smile being sent her way from her apparent new partner and focused on Director Careme, who had stood to begin.

The stout wizard cleared his throat and with a scowl on his face introduced Senior Auror Swanson, the Head of the Auror department and the highest ranking woman official in all of ministry law enforcement. Hermione frowned; it was rare that he gave someone else the floor. This must be an extremely important investigation for him to defer to a woman. This was _just_ what she needed: a high priority case and all the while stuck with an inexperienced colleague to work with. She might as well be babysitting.

Hermione focused her attention on Swanson and wondered for the umpteenth time what it would be like to work for this woman. The Auror was a dedicated professional and was regarded as such by every one of her colleagues. Perhaps Hermione would have climbed the ranks in that department instead of being stuck at the bottom as she was here.

"Hermione, Jessica." She nodded politely to them as she began. "It's a pleasure to be collaborating with the Unspeakables and specifically to be working with the two of you. You've both been highly recommended for your individual skills and I have complete faith in your abilities."

Hermione questioned what skills Jessica could possibly have—since she had only joined the department a few weeks ago. However, she kept this thought to herself and focused her attention on the Auror.

"I'll get right to the point. For the past few months, politicians and ministry officials across the world in both the Magical and Muggle communities have taken ill. This illness has been classified as Compulsion Truth Sickness, or CTS for short." She leaned with both hands on the table in front of her. "Those afflicted with CTS are unable to filter their thoughts. Once a thought develops, they are compelled to immediately verbalize it without being prompted by a question. Their thoughts, feelings, and observations are spoken immediately without being filtered by any judgment whatsoever. As you can imagine, this has caused all sorts of difficulties in their work and family environments."

Jessica barely stifled a giggle which earned her a glare from Director Careme.

Auror Swanson opened a file and took out a few pieces of parchment. She looked briefly at them before handing them out. "This is a list of the known cases of CTS. The outbreaks have not been restricted to England. There are reported cases across Europe, Asia, and North America. Most of the afflicted have been contained in various hospitals; the Muggles have been placed in psychiatric wards run by witches and wizards where they are being monitored, and those of magical blood have been quarantined to wizarding hospitals. A team of the best healers from around the world have been working diligently to find the cause of CTS and reverse the symptoms. They have, unfortunately, not been able to find a cure, as of yet. They believe it to be magical malady, as it does imitate the effects of certain truth serums. Not knowing the origin—spell, potion, curse, or perhaps even a Muggle disease—has hampered their progress immensely."

Hermione glanced down at the list in her hands and was shocked by the large quantity of names on the parchment. The newspapers had reported some strange occurrences, but had never come close to telling their readers what was actually happening. It was no wonder it had been kept quiet though, the list included Heads of State right along with junior assistants to Ministers of Magic. The ramifications, if this was revealed, would be quite devastating to the world's political system. One thing was for sure, whoever, or whatever, was causing this had no bias or set pattern. The victims were being randomly chosen from the political pool.

"Unfortunately, there is a name that needs to be added to that list as of yesterday." Her face grew grim as she continued. "Our own Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt."

Jessica gasped and Hermione shook her head. This explained why the Unspeakables had finally been called in—and why Auror Swanson was doing the briefing.

"It is not yet public knowledge, and we're doing everything in our power to keep it that way. He's been confined to his home with only house-elves to care for him." She paused and glanced at Hermione. "They are the most trustworthy of all servants. He had to be cut off from all human contact. I'm afraid he knows too many things that need to remain secret for any type of social interaction until he's cured.

"Aurors were deployed to the scene as soon as we learned the Minister had contracted CTS. A thorough investigation was begun immediately with Harry Potter and his team in charge. They had a lucky break when about an hour later and employee of the establishment the minister had eaten lunch at started spouting off about the patrons he was serving, making derogatory and embarrassing remarks." Her expression darkened. "When the Aurors investigated further, they discovered that this particular employee saves uneaten food from the plates he collects while cleaning up and consumes it later. This disgusting habit gave us the first real lead we've had in the investigation of CTS. After interrogating the restaurant staff it was established that one employee, a chef's assistant, was found to be bewitched. St. Mungo's staff is attempting to gather more information from both men as we speak." She paused to look at each of them in turn.

When she began again there was an edge to her voice that hadn't been there before. "Under the Assistant Minister's orders, we've contacted our counterparts in other countries in an attempt to pool our efforts. Not everyone was willing to cooperate, but with the help of the French we were able to pinpoint that restaurants are the most likely source of CTS distribution." She cleared her throat. It was obvious that Swanson was upset by the lack of aid from other Ministries.

"After some investigation into other cases with this new knowledge, it was discovered that a certain chain of culinary schools in America appears to be a common link. Each offending establishment employs a chef or assistant that is a recent graduate. The bewitched staff member from _Enoteca Turi_ is a recent graduate and a Muggle." She sat down and leaned back in her chair.

"Now that you have some background information, I'll turn the rest of this briefing over to Director Careme; he will inform you of the specifics of your assignment and your objectives. If you have questions feel free to ask."

ooOoo

The Leaky Cauldron was nearly empty when she arrived. Scanning the bar for a shock of red hair, Hermione confirmed she'd beaten the boys here. Fifteen minutes late and she was still the first to arrive. _Some things never change,_ she thought fondly. Settling herself into their regular booth, she signaled to Tom for her usual glass of Pinot.

She'd be leaving in the morning for America. The current semester at The World Culinary Arts School of Cooking Design started on Monday morning, and she and Jessica were enrolled as students. They'd be sharing a flat in New York City and posing as cousins from England. Her alias was that of a twenty-five year old divorcee named Harmony Gage.

Harmony? Merlin, what was Careme thinking? At least he thought she could still pass for mid-twenties. She and 'Juliet', her nineteen year old cousin, were to infiltrate the student body and staff to see what they could find on CTS and its origins. That is, if it was really being spread through the school alumni; Hermione had her doubts.

Tom set the glass of wine down in front of her and gave her a toothless grin before moving on. She took a sip and pulled out a book from her bag. She had stopped at Waterstones, and then Flourish and Blotts before making her way to meet with Harry and Ron for dinner. She wanted to do some research on New York, both the magical and Muggle communities, and she had desperately needed some reference books on cooking.

Of all the people and professions she had been forced to become while undercover, learning to be a chef was going to be the biggest challenge she had yet to face. Hermione had never acquired the skill of cooking or baking. Her mother had attempted to teach her during the summer holidays, but she had always found an excuse to do something else. She'd assumed it would be easy, follow a recipe and, _voila_, you would have something delicious to eat, but she had been sorely mistaken. Everything she had tried to make was either tasteless or burnt. She had given up on the whole mess after six months of eating her own cooking. She survived now on the café food at the Ministry and Mrs. Weasley's care packages. The Culinary Arts were going to be a challenge. Sighing to herself, she opened her book, placed a distraction charm on the title, and started to memorize French cooking terms.

"Hey, Hermione, your lover boy's here!" Ron bellowed loudly from the doorway. Everyone in the restaurant looked her way, and she felt a blush creep to her cheeks. He still loved to embarrass her any time he had the chance.

Her romance with Ron had fizzled out quickly after the war was over. There had been an attraction, but the reality of daily life together was too much to handle for them both. They were polar opposites; she relied on logic and knowledge to get through life, and he used instinct and intuition. They had argued about basics so much, they finally decided to go their separate ways before they cursed each other into oblivion. She'd yet to find a man who kept her interest for very long, but Ron had been dating Luna for the last five years and seemed genuinely happy. He still used every chance he could to remind her about their prior relationship though.

She put her book away and watched Harry make his way to the table. He had a goofy grin on his face and looked as if he were floating on air. Ginny had sent her an owl this afternoon with the good news, but she'd let him tell her.

"Hermione." Harry bent down and gave her cheek a quick kiss before sliding into the booth across from her. His eyes shone with happiness. "I'm so happy you owled today. I have news. Ginny's pregnant again!" he blurted out.

"Harry, that's wonderful. I'm so happy for the both of you." She reached across the table and squeezed his hand.

"Did my brother-in-law tell you he knocked up my sister again? If she doesn't watch out, he'll have her raising more kids than our mum," Ron said as he set the drinks down and slid into the booth next to Hermione.

"I've already been told—adamantly—that this is the last one. She's itching to get back to work. I get daily commentary each morning on the horrendous mistakes the _Prophet_ is making. She says the editor is ruining the integrity of the paper. I really don't relish the thought of having her go back to journalism though. She was always trying to get inside information when I was at my weakest," Harry said with a wink.

"Do you know if it's a boy or girl yet?" Hermione asked.

"Gin won't do the detection spell, she likes the suspense, but I'm really hoping for a girl this time," he said.

"Don't hold your breath, mate. The Weasley line isn't exactly known for producing girls. I think this generation already has its quota," Ron joked.

"'Now, Mione, why did you HAVE to meet us tonight, and what the hell happened to your hair?" He ran his hand over her head, mussing the short tight curls, before taking a swig of his pint.

"I got sick of it. Chopped it all off, Ron," she said a bit defensively. It wasn't the best look for her, but it was okay. It was a lot easier to care for, that was for sure.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist! It's all right, Hermione. It suits you; you're as gorgeous as ever. I just don't want Luna getting any crazy ideas. I like her hair long, and since she seems to think I still have the hots for you, you never know what she'll do." He waggled his eyebrows and blew her a kiss. Ron would never change, and working with George had made him that much sillier, and so much more confident. She liked this Ron; he knew who he was and what he wanted.

"Maybe if you'd stop making remarks and gestures like that, she'd stop feeling that way!" she chastised halfheartedly.

"When's the wedding, Ron?" Harry interjected quickly to keep the two from squabbling. "If you'd just marry her already I think she'd stop being jealous. You've made her wait long enough, just get it over with."

"Can't. Charlie's getting hitched next. He's brought some woman home from Romania. She's older and as nutters about dragons as he is. Mum doesn't like her much since she doesn't want children, but Dad adores her; she's a Muggleborn."

"That's wonderful news, Ron! I'm so happy for Charlie. How's the rest of the family?"

"The same really. Bill and Fleur are having issues. She's been wanting to go back to France, but he won't go; I think they started counseling or something. George is ... well, George. Have you seen a recent picture of Roxanne? She has Angelina's smile, but her eyes are George's, devious glint and all, and that girl can run circles around her parents. It's a good thing she doesn't have a twin!" He passed her pictures of his niece and nephews.

"How's Percy?" Harry asked as Hermione beamed down at the children waving at her from the photos. "Ginny's been concerned. Last time we saw him he was pretty withdrawn, even more than usual. He's never really recovered from everything that happened after the war, has he?"

"We hired him on at the shop part time, but I don't think he likes the idea of working for us. Feels it's beneath him. He's really pretty brilliant at research and development. Some of the ideas he's come up with for products are revolutionary." Ron drained his glass and signaled to Tom for another round.

"We have to keep him away from the customers though. He bitches about the Ministry every chance he gets. Did you know he even tried working at the American Ministry, but they fired him after only a month? Really isn't meant to work in politics, is he?

"Now enough about my family and its woes. Why'd you want to meet up, Hermione? Are you off on another 'research' assignment for your job?" He made imaginary quotes in the air as he said the word research.

"Yes, I'm taking off tomorrow. It was all arranged very suddenly, so I wanted to make sure we saw each other before I left. I've no idea when I'll be finished and back in England," Hermione said, ignoring Ron's sarcasm. It drove him insane that he didn't know what she actually did. It was better this way. Both Harry and Ron would go nuts if they knew she was a spy. Better that they thought it was some type of bookish work.

She leaned her head on Ron's shoulder. "And, Ronald can you please, please take care of Professor for me again while I'm away?" she asked, smiling up at him and fluttering her eyelashes.

Harry started snickering behind his hand, while Ron looked justly horrified. "That damn cat of yours, Hermione? He scratches the shite out of me every time I go near him. Can't Harry take him? You don't know what I went through the last time you were gone!"

"He's not so bad, Ron. Come on, you were fine last time. I didn't see a single mark on you."

"That's because he adores Luna; if it wasn't for her, I'd have kicked him out of the flat to fend for himself. He's just as unruly and mean spirited as the man you named him after."

"Ron, don't speak ill of the dead …"

"I thought Crooks was bad, but his replacement …"

"Ron!"

They bickered over her cat until Tom arrived with their drinks and three house specials. Harry pulled out his wand and cast an elaborately choreographed spell on the food.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione asked.

"A detection spell. I want to make sure our food hasn't been tampered with. It's the case I'm working on. Someone's poisoning restaurant food," he said matter-of-factly. "I almost wasn't able to make it tonight. I'm on my dinner hour now and then it's back to work for me."

"Well, I'm glad you were able to get away. I wouldn't have felt right not being able to say goodbye to you." Hermione smiled at him brightly. "Can you tell us about what you're working on? My job is so dull; I love hearing about yours," she encouraged Harry. Maybe he had some tidbit of information she could use. The Aurors didn't always see a clue, even if it was right in front of their face.

Harry cast _Muffliato_, and Hermione and Ron ate their dinner silently as he explained CTS to them sharing everything the Aurors had learned so far.

**A/N: **This story was written from a pompt by the fabulous Duniazade for the winter 08 version of the ss/hg exchange on live jounal. Thank you to everyone who held my hand while I wrote - Dee, Deanna, Sara, Cyn, Sonia - You guys are the best!

Original Prompt: After the war, Snape is presumed dead, but in fact he works as an Unspeakable for another country (Bulgaria, France, whatever) or even for an international agency. Hermione is an Unspeakable in England. What happens when the two Secret Services need to collaborate?


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the HP universe, the wonderful JKR owns it all. **

_**A Conspiracy of Epicurean Proportions ~ Chapter Two**_

They arrived at their destination five hours later than anticipated, half-frozen and a few Galleons lighter. The inept peon in the Portkey office had sent them to Alaska of all places! It had taken Jessica's compelling powers of persuasion and a small payoff to convince the official to expedite a Portkey for them. The American hadn't appreciated Hermione's snide comments about proper procedure and crooked bureaucrats, so they spent two freezing hours at the top of Mt McKinley waiting for the small American flag to transport them to Manhattan as punishment.

The magical section of New York was located in Greenwich Village, the entrance tucked between two storefronts on 6th Avenue. It was an enchanting place, larger than Diagon Alley, and full of bookshops and apothecaries that Hermione would have loved to explore. Unfortunately, exploration would have to wait for another day as it was already late. Luckily it was just a short walk to the small flat that the Ministry had sublet for them and it didn't take long for them to unpack and settle in. Sometimes magic did come in handy.

They spent the next few hours reviewing what little information they had on the case. When they were through, Jessica insisted on questioning Hermione incessantly about everything from her position at the Ministry to her relationship with the boys and her days at Hogwarts. She didn't ask tangible questions though, nothing that could be answered with a definite yes or no. She wanted to hear about Hermione's emotions, how she reacted to situations and how she felt about her life.

Truth be told, this made Hermione very uncomfortable. She did her best to avoid answering Jessica's probing questions and attempted to steer the conversation back to work subjects. She had never done well with feelings; her life was about facts and logic. She had survived all these years using her brain with only minimal interference from her heart. Following her heart seemed to backfire spectacularly on her. Hadn't her protectiveness of her parents ultimately been the reason she had lost contact with them?

The next morning, at Hermione's insistence, they had taken a bus tour of Upper and Lower Manhattan. They needed to familiarize themselves with the neighborhood, since it would be one of their responsibilities to keep track of the culinary school's alumni that still lived and worked in the city. Jessica was being her irksome self, chattering nonstop and churning out random facts faster than any guide could. It had been the same in Alaska; Hermione now knew more about the mating ritual of the Caribou than she ever wanted to.

Hermione found New York to be oppressive; the buildings were squeezed so tightly together that the sunlight barely reached street level. Central Park was an oasis in the jungle of concrete. It was one of the only redeeming features in an otherwise stark and dreary city.

"Did you know, Harmony that Central Park is eight hundred and forty-three acres? Isn't that amazing, in a city like this, to have a park so large?" Jessica asked as the bus slowly made its way back towards the Village and the end of the tour.

Hermione grunted in agreement. She'd realized early on that this was the best way to deal with her partner; any other input was taken as encouragement to keep talking. She wondered if she had been this irritating at Jessica's age. She knew she had been thought of as a 'know-it-all'—hadn't the boys called her that often enough—but she didn't think she was as random, or as annoying, as Jessica was proving to be.

This was going to be a very long assignment if Jessica continued to be this obnoxiously energetic and a know-it-all to boot. Between the city and her partner she'd be ecstatic when this case was solved and she could go home. And that wasn't even taking into consideration the fact she was required to pretend she enjoyed cooking—enough to consider making it a career.

As they made their way back toward their flat Jessica stopped to peer into a store window. "Lets pop into the grocer and pick up some provisions," she said. "The take-away last night was awful. I can't believe they called that curry. We'll have to remember to never order from there again."

They entered the Trader Joes on 14th and Hermione followed with the cart as Jessica selected items from the shelves, her only addition to their purchases being a few inexpensive bottles of wine, which would be used later for drowning out Jessica's non-stop prattle.

Thank Merlin she had brought so much reference material with her as she barely recognized half the items in the store. She had already memorized cooking terms in English, French, and Italian, and she knew by sight every kitchen utensil you could think of, but from the look of things she'd better study actual types of food. How many types of cheese could there possibly be? She felt like she was in potions class all over again, but for some reason these were things she felt she should already know.

They arrived back at the flat ten minutes later. Hermione poured herself a glass of wine and attempted to sneak off to her room for more research, but Jessica caught her as she started to shut the door.

"I thought we'd make something easy tonight. Italian would be good, don't you think, Harmony?"

"Whatever you want, Juliet," Hermione said flatly, reluctantly walking back to the living room. Jessica had insisted on using their aliases the minute they had left the briefing on Friday. It was annoying the hell out her, but partly because she hadn't been the one to suggest it.

"Great! Could you slice the tomatoes and fresh mozzarella for our salad while I start preparing the chicken?" she asked in that bubbly voice that made Hermione what to throttle her.

"Do you like mushrooms? I found some beautiful baby portabellas at the market. I thought we could use them in chicken Marsala. Top it off with a salad, and maybe some kind of vegetable. Do you have a favorite vegetable?" Jessica asked as she zipped around the kitchen arranging ingredients across the counter.

"I love broccoli personally. Can you believe broccoli has been around for over two thousand years? The name comes from the Latin word brachium. Fitting, yes? Shall we sauté it with garlic and butter? I'll start steaming it if you mince the garlic," she rattled on as she placed the tomatoes and cheese on the table. She stopped talking long enough to look up at Hermione, a smile on her face.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her smile fading when she noticed Hermione's expression.

"So this is why you were chosen for the assignment," Hermione stated bluntly.

Jessica looked confused for a moment, and then as the meaning of Hermione's words dawned on her, her face fell even further marring her pretty features. "I suppose so." She gestured to the room. "I do know my way around the kitchen."

She turned her back on Hermione and started pounding the chicken. "My family owns a restaurant in Nottingham; that's where I grew up. My mother is a chef, so is my uncle. I didn't know I was a witch until I received my Hogwarts letter. Mum really didn't want me to go, wasn't sure she wanted a witch for a daughter. Thought I'd grow up and follow in the family footsteps." A touch of annoyance had crept into her voice.

She turned to look at Hermione who still stood in the doorway. "Can you start slicing, please?"

"Jessica ..."

"Juliet."

"Juliet, I didn't mean that like it sounded," Hermione began. "I had just wondered …"

"Why they chose a rookie to come with you?" Jessica finished her sentence, irritation punctuating each syllable.

"Well, yes. But I can see that you have a lot to offer to this mission," Hermione said, back pedaling.

"I have a lot more to offer than just my cooking skills."

"Of course," she said in another attempt at placating her partner.

"Do you really believe that? Or do you think I'm some kind of air-headed little twit who slept her way to this position? I've heard all the rumors being whispered about me, I just didn't think you'd believe them. I thought you'd do a little research. See that I actually have qualifications for this kind of work. Isn't that what you're famous for, research?" Jessica snapped.

Hermione was taken aback. Jessica was right. Everything had happened so quickly that she hadn't bothered to investigate her new partner, had just dismissed her as an annoyance she would have to deal with. She was obviously intelligent, evident in the amount of facts she could recite from memory, and she had dealt with the Alaska fiasco with diplomacy and patience. Her skill with a wand had yet to be tested in front of Hermione, but she would guess that Jessica was proficient in that also. Perhaps she had been unreasonable in judging her too quickly.

"You're right. I didn't make inquiries, or even take the time to read your file, and I apologize for that, but you needn't be defensive about the whole cooking thing," Hermione said. "I was just making a statement."

"I'm not being defensive over that! I'm angry because had you been even remotely interested in getting to know me, you'd already know that I could cook. Do you realize you haven't asked me one personal question the entire weekend? I guess the rumors about you are true."

"What?" Hermione asked stunned.

Jessica silently Summoned the wine bottle from the counter and poured herself a glass. She swirled the contents and took a small sip before she spoke again. "When I found out that you were an Unspeakable, I was beside myself with excitement. I'd be working with the female third of the famous trio! The brains behind the brawn. You're a legend at Hogwarts, you know." She took another sip of wine, her mouth puckering at the taste.

"The stories of your escapades are retold time and time again, bedtime stories for first years. Courage, bravery, ingenuity, cunning. You symbolize everything a Gryffindor strives to be."

Hermione waved her hand in irritation not even noticing the compliment in Jessica's words. "What rumors? Who's talking about me?" she demanded.

"I was surprised you were still doing fieldwork though. I thought by now you'd be in a director position or some equivalent. I suppose the gossip is true about your lack of…"

"What gossip?" Hermione yelled, infuriated. "I'm damn good at my job. I have the best record in the department, not an infraction in my file. I've never stepped out of line, never broken the rules; I do my research and solve cases! Half the nitwits in the department have gotten themselves into trouble behaving impulsively. I've rescued half of them for God sakes. And those are the fools they promote!"

"Exactly," Jessica said calmly, cocking her head to one side, reminding Hermione of Luna. "You get the job done. You find clues in the minutia, apply logic and solve cases. But you don't have an inkling about the human factor. What makes people lie and cheat; what makes them commit crimes. Emotions like passion, rage, obsession. You always play by the rules, but you don't realize the rules change when human beings are involved. What happened to the girl I heard so much about? The girl who would break the rules when she needed to? The girl who led Umbridge into the forest? I'm sure that was against the rules, wasn't it? But you did it anyway, didn't you, for the greater good."

"That girl, and her rose colored glasses, is long gone, Jessica. Life has opened my eyes to reality; everything we did at Hogwarts was luck. We should have been dead ten times over. The things we got ourselves into were pure stupidity! But this has nothing to do with my performance as an Unspeakable, I …"

"But it does, Hermione. It really does. All those things you did as a teenager, all the rules you broke, and all the scrapes you made your way out of happened because you used your brain but followed your heart." She finished her wine and stood up.

"That makes you a whole person, heart plus head. Somewhere you lost your heart and it's a shame, a damn shame," she said and walked out of the kitchen leaving a stunned Hermione in her wake with a meal waiting to be prepared and no idea how to do it.

ooOoo

The next day dawned grey and gloomy, matching Hermione's mood perfectly. She had desperately tried to dismiss her conversation with Jessica. What was wrong with being logical? It had proved to be beneficial on more than one occasion. She had never been in a position where her 'feelings' would have served her better than her head. Look what had happened the night Sirius had died. Had Harry listened to her logic, they would have never have gone to the Ministry. And Sirius would have never followed.

Harry always followed his heart and never gave a second thought to the consequences. While it ultimately worked for him in the end, it almost always backfired in some shape or form, biting him in the arse more times than not. She learned to turn that part of her off a long time ago. It made her life easier, it made her hurt less.

Was that why she was still alone with only one surly cat for a companion? Did she have problems relating to others? Others, of course, being anyone other than the boys and maybe Ginny.

Maybe she should try to listen to her feelings more and her head less. Take risks and stop analyzing every move she made.

Or maybe she was analyzing Jessica's words too much, and she should just forget the whole conversation.

She dressed quickly, grabbed a cup of coffee that Jessica had thoughtfully brewed and headed out the door for her first day of class.

The school was on Broadway, just a short bus trip from their flat. The classroom consisted of long stainless steel tables partitioned off into individual workspaces. Hermione found Jessica chatting with a tall, dark-haired boy who reminded her of a young Viktor Krum.

"Harmony," she called, gesturing her over, "I saved a space for you." She was back to being her sweet and charming self. Hermione wished she could forgive and forget that easily.

She smiled up at her new friend. "Alex, this is my cousin Harmony. Harmony this is Alex. He's a native New Yorker. Isn't that interesting?"

Hermione nodded her head and attempted a cheery smile. Her stomach was in knots. The room was a bit overwhelming and she didn't feel prepared. Jessica tilted her head giving her a searching look, then turned back to her conversation with Alex.

She nervously arranged then rearranged the utensils in front of her as she waited for their instructor to arrive. Her classmates chatted and laughed, eagerly awaiting the first step of their chosen careers.

The door slammed open unexpectedly, causing a knife to slip out of Hermione's hand and fall to the floor with a loud clatter. Feeling her cheeks redden, she dove to retrieve it and froze when she heard a familiar voice begin to speak.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact skill of the culinary arts," he began softly.

"There will be no books in this class, no relying on others to do your thinking for you. You alone will create the magic required to construct your masterpieces." He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but the class had stilled, not wanting to miss a word

Hermione felt the hair rise on the back of her neck. She knew that voice, had listened raptly to the knowledge spewing from those lips in reluctant admiration for years.

"I don't expect half of you will really understand the delicate beauty of a softly simmering pot with its enticing aroma, the subtle yet immense power a well-prepared entrée can wield, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses … I can teach you how to bake fame, braise glory, achieve distinction—if, that is, you aren't as big of a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach," he finished with a snarl.

She stood up slowly feeling dizzy. He wasn't supposed to be here; he was supposed to be dead. She had watched him die a slow agonizing death! She had searched for his body in the aftermath, but had never dreamt that he had actually survived. It had been assumed his body had been disposed of by a Death Eater before Voldemort had fallen.

CLANK

She dropped the knife again when she caught sight of him. He was pacing the middle of the room dressed entirely in white, his longish hair pulled back from his face. The sallow complexion she remembered had been replaced with a light tan, and with his sunken cheeks filled out his large nose no longer looked out of place on such a thin face. He looked healthy, and younger than she knew him to be. Dare she even think it, but he looked … almost handsome?

He turned instantly toward the noise, Hermione swore she saw his clothes billow slightly, and raised an eyebrow at her. Looking down at the attendance roster in his hand he said, "Ms … Gage?" A lip curled in distaste. "Surely my introductory speech hasn't left you wanting to run yourself through with a knife already. That usually doesn't happen until the second lesson, if indeed you make it that far."

**A/N:** This story was written from a prompt by the fabulous Duniazade for the winter 08 version of the ss/hg exchange on live jounal. Thank you to everyone who held my hand while I wrote - Dee, Deanna, Sara, Cyn, Sonia - You guys are the best!


	3. Chapter 3

**_A Conspiracy of Epicurean Proportions ~ Chapter Three_**

She waited impatiently as the last of the students packed up their equipment and exited the classroom. She had business with Snape, or Slade as he was calling himself now. Stephan Slade. And he had the audacity to sneer at the name Harmony Gage.

Today had been positively horrid. She had venerated this man as a dead war hero for so long that she had forgotten what a bastard he could be. He had spent the day taking advantage of every opportunity to degrade his students; of course, she had been his favorite target.

Her wand was at the ready, and with a flick of the wrist the door was closed and locked as soon as the room cleared. She turned to confront her ex-professor only to find an ebony wand pointed idly in her direction.

"What the hell are you doing here, Snape?" she yelled, closing the distance between them until they were standing wand-tip to wand-tip. "You're dead!"

"Obviously I am very much alive, Miss Granger. Though had I known I would have the misfortune of teaching you again, I do believe I would have allowed myself to perish on that fateful night."

The mocking expression he wore brought back a sudden rush of foul memories. Neville had been the recipient of that particular look in potions class more often than she cared to remember. He hadn't been quite that dreadful today, thank Merlin.

"Though I see your know-it-all skills do not extend to the kitchen," he added snidely, but his eyes appeared to sparkle with a hint of amusement.

"Please! Six years of _your_ teaching methods is enough to last a lifetime," she said glaring back at him. "Had I known you'd be an instructor here, I would have never ag—"

"Skive off class? Are you sure you would have survived," he interrupted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, shut it! Answer my question. What are you doing here?" she asked, stamping her foot in frustration.

"I can't 'shut it' and speak at the same time now can I ... Harmony?"

"What are you doing here? And at a cooking school, no less?" she asked again.

"I could ask you the same question." He raised one dark eyebrow at her, his expression unreadable.

Hermione gaped at him for a moment, annoyed by his question, before she was able to regain her composure. She had been so obsessively focused on the mystery of an alive and well Snape that she had briefly forgotten why she was actually here. Could he be the mastermind behind CTS? It would be right up his alley. An undetectable substance, control of a cooking classroom, no love lost for the Ministry. Shit! Here she was practically romanticizing the bastard, and he could be the criminal they were looking for.

He lowered his wand and leaned up against the stainless steel table behind him, stretching his long legs forward.

"I suppose you won't let me out of here until I give you an answer." He stowed his wand in his jacket and reached up, loosening his hair from its binding. The sneer all but vanishing as he continued, "I teach here. It was a natural transition for me from potions to cooking," he finished casually, clearly not trying very hard to be convincing.

"Now it's your turn, what are you doing here?" he asked. "And what is with this silly name—Harmony Gage?"

The change in his demeanor triggered a warning in Hermione's consciousness. Was he trying to manipulate her by being pleasant? The Snape she knew was never pleasant.

"Don't say a word about my name, Stephan Slade," she said, her tone light but mocking. "So, I'm to believe that you've been hiding out in America training wanna-be chefs for the last ten years? Tell me what you're really up to, Snape?"

She raised her wand a little higher and silently shielded herself from a physical attack.

"First tell me why you're going by a fake name."

"No, tell me what you're doing here." She wasn't about to back down before him.

His lips curled at the corners in a shadow of a smile as he pushed off from the table. Closing in on her personal space, he said simply, "Name?"

Hermione pointed her wand at his heart.

He laughed deeply, the sound echoing in the large sterile room.

"Fine." He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Just answer me one question."

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "Are you an Unspeakable?"

Her wand hand quivered slightly. The hot breath on her ear, mixed with the closeness of his body, sent chills down her spine. Swallowing hard, she steadied her wand. "I don't know what you're playing at, Snape."

"If I were in hiding, you would have already been Obliviated and I would be a million miles away. Do you think me a fool, Granger? You're here on a mission, undoubtedly in reference to CTS."

Hermione opened her mouth but before she could protest his statement Snape continued.

"No, like you, I'm here on an assignment."

"An assignment," Hermione repeated, her mind whirling. "Explain."

"An assignment, a task given to a person or group to carry out."

"You're insufferable! I know what an assignment is. What I need to have explained is how you happen to be here on one. Does the Ministry know you're alive? Do you work for them? Why weren't we told you'd be here?" She rattled off the questions quickly, finishing with the one she wanted answered most, "And how the hell did you survive?"

"Yes. No. I've no idea. And none of your damn business," he answered each of her questions ticking them off on his fingers as he did.

She stood there unable to form a coherent sentence due to the rage boiling up inside her, both at Snape and the Ministry. If they knew he was alive, then why hadn't they told her? She had campaigned for a posthumous Order of Merlin for this man, had kept his name on the list of heroes honored at the celebrations each year, even named her cat after him. And here he was alive and well. Damn it! She wondered if Harry knew about this; she was going to kill him if he did and hadn't told her.

She was distracted from her indignant thoughts when he unbuttoned his white jacket and shrugged out of it. The coat had covered a tight short-sleeved white t-shirt, which hugged his torso showing off his muscular frame.

Hermione couldn't help but ogle him. She'd always assumed that he was a thin scrawny man under his billowing black teaching robes. She never expected him to be … well, so fit. She wondered if this was a new Snape, or had his physique always been like this, just purposefully hidden by him? Slytherin girls—and some boys—would have been fawning over him left and right had they only known.

Lost in her own thoughts, she never heard him call her name until he touched her arm lightly.

"Hermione?"

Startled by the use of her given name, she looked up into his eyes and immediately felt him force his way into her mind. Before she could shield herself he saw glimpses of the last week of her life. The briefing with Auror Swanson, the information she had learned from Harry, her conversation with Jessica. Snape made it as far as seeing her reaction to his whispering in her ear before she was able to force him out of her memories.

"How dare you, Snape! You're a bastard." How had she fallen for that? What kind of spy was she if she let a potential criminal catch her off guard? Even if that person was her long dead professor.

"I never said I wasn't," he snorted. "Now tell me all about this partner of yours. She seems … fascinating. I don't remember her from Hogwarts. Is she much younger than you?"

A surge of alien emotion rushed through Hermione before it could gain energy she suppressed it and glared back at Snape.

"Turn about's fair play. Let me rummage around in your mind and then maybe I'll answer you," she retorted.

"I don't think so, Miss Granger. If I explain myself, answer your infernal questions, then will you be satisfied and let me leave."

"Fine. What are you doing here?"

"Already answered that, Granger. I'm working. Undercover."

"For who?"

"The French Ministry."

"As?"

"The equivalent of an Unspeakable."

"Elaborate, Snape. Don't make me ask every little thing," she yelled, losing her already thin patience. "We'll be here all night otherwise!"

He chuckled again. "Would that be so bad?"

She felt her face flush. Damn him, he was trying to keep her off balance. He must have seen more of her reaction to him than she thought. She took a deep breath and said nastily, "Yes. It would."

His smile faded. He turned to pick up his jacket as he continued, an edge to his voice that hadn't been there before. "I'm here working on the CTS case, the same as you. From what I garnered from my intrusion into your mind, you've been briefed with the intelligence the French have supplied your Ministry and not much else."

"My Ministry? It's your Ministry, too. Or have you become a French citizen in the last ten years?"

"No, Ms Granger. Your Ministry did not want me, or my checkered past. They rewarded me handsomely and asked me to leave. I'd had enough of England, so it wasn't a difficult thing to do. I started over in France one thing led to another, and I wound up working for the government.

"Now, as I was saying, you already know most of what I do. I am here, as you are, to find out if this is indeed where CTS is originating. I have two ex-students under surveillance: one Muggle and one wizard. Both appear to have been placed under an enchantment, or bewitchment, but as of yet neither have come into contact with a politician. I am here alone; we have other operatives in schools around the country, so I really could use your help in keeping track of these two." He raised an eyebrow in question and took a step toward her.

"You want us to work together, Snape?" She stepped backward, stopping abruptly as the cold steel of the table pressed against her back.

"Put away your wand, Hermione. I'm not going to hurt you. We're here for the same purpose. No?" The corners of his mouth twitched. "I think it will be, ah … interesting working with you and your partner."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked resentfully, but lowered her wand at his request.

"Exactly what it sounds like. If you don't believe my story, confirm it with the Ministry. But I beseech you not to tell Potter. One unexpected reunion with a member of the infamous trio is quite enough," he finished. Tossing his jacket over his shoulder, he brushed past her. The contact gave her an unexpected jolt.

"By the way, Hermione, the haircut suits you," he called over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

Unconsciously, she raised her hand to her head.

ooOoo

The next few months found Hermione increasingly frustrated as she made an ass out of herself in the kitchens. Snape was more relentless than he had ever been at Hogwarts. He hounded her continuously, calling attention to her numerous inadequacies. She wasn't the only person he had done this to; already three students had dropped out, one even running out of class in tears. Luckily, she'd never cried in class. She really didn't think Snape would have ever let her live that one down.

She had learned to cook, he had forced her to, but the price had been brutal. Her ego and pride had taken a bashing with his callous remarks, no matter if some were true. It was difficult to keep her cover when she wanted to curse him on a daily basis during class. She almost had, in fact, on numerous occasions, but Jessica always intervened right when she was about to start jinxing. It was eerie how Jessica seemed to know what she was thinking and feeling even before she did.

Outside of the classroom, it was a completely different story.

She was still frustrated on a daily basis by him, but Hermione was of two minds about her ex-professor. Some days, she couldn't seem to get enough of him, and other days, he thoroughly infuriated her. He could be charming one moment, and a sarcastic bastard the next.

She admired him; of that much she was certain. It was hard not to, he was a brilliant man, more so than she'd ever imagined, and he had this wonderful knack for making her laugh. But she was wary of him, too. His moods defied logic, at least to her they did. As soon as she thought she had him figured out, he would change, and she would be knocked off balance again. He made her _feel_ though, more than she had in years. Between him and Jessica her emotions seemed to be on a rollercoaster ride that she just couldn't get off.

Jessica wasn't any less complicated than Snape. She had quickly become one of the more popular students. Between her bubbly personality and her amazing ability in the kitchen, the other students were naturally drawn to her. What they didn't know, and what Hermione had been surprised to discover, was that Jessica's open and sweet demeanor masked an extremely shrewd woman with an uncanny ability to read people correctly. Her instincts continued to amaze Hermione. She had proved to be an incredible judge of character.

Her perceptive insights into Hermione's personality were now slipped casually into their conversations rather than just bluntly stated. This had much more of a lasting effect just as Jessica probably intended. Many a night Hermione had laid awake mulling over her partners observations, wondering if there was any truth to them, just what sort of person had she become.

Much to Hermione's consternation, Jessica and Severus had become friends almost instantaneously. Her partner had an unusually high regard for the man and had even taken it upon herself to invite him to dinner on a regular basis. Those nights usually found the three of them in lively debate as Jessica and Snape prepared some scrumptious meal, while Hermione set the table. When Jessica went to bed, usually earlier than normal, Hermione had a glimpse of another of Snape's many personas. This man, sitting in a comfortable recliner and sipping a glass of red wine, would lose his sarcasm and criticism; he was relaxed, unguarded, even pleasant and dare she say it, occasionally sweet. They would talk well into the night about all manner of subjects, and not once would the acerbic Slytherin in him rear its ugly head. She knew the feeling would never be returned, but as much as she tried to stop herself she thought she might be falling for him. Well, at least this facet of him.

The three of them worked hard together, when not in actual class, investigating every angle of the case only to turn up dead ends. The administration, suppliers, and students all appeared to be clean and free of any wrongdoing. Even the two alumni they had been watching closely hadn't turned up anything. Unfortunately Snape's counterparts hadn't had any luck ferreting out a suspect at their posts, and neither had Hermione's. She had even contacted Harry and pumped him for information but had been disappointed on that front too.

Things were getting out of hand. The world's population was in a panic. Some of the most influential and important politicians had been sequestered with an unknown 'communicable disease', and entire countries were being run by assistants and lackeys. Things were starting to collapse without proper leadership. Small civil wars had been started, and major misunderstandings were pushing larger countries into taking drastic measures to retaliate.

They needed a break, and they needed it soon. Whoever was behind this had found a sure fire way to bring about the collapse of modern civilization. Hermione fleetingly wondered if they had a new Dark Lord in the making. If so, it seemed that this one didn't want just England, it wanted the whole damn world.


	4. Chapter 4

**_A Conspiracy of Epicurean Proportions ~ Chapter Four_**

Hermione sat at the library table across from Jessica, studying for an exam she fully expected to fail. She realized it didn't matter, that she would never need this knowledge professionally, but it was against her nature not to prepare as well as she could. Their final would be in a few days, and Snape had hinted they'd be expected to create a dish using an unusual ingredient of his choice. Hermione, for once, was going with her instincts and betting that the unusual ingredient would be snake meat. It fit right in with his dark sense of humor. In preparation, she had spent the last hour scouring the Muggle internet for some manner of inspiration.

She hadn't spoken to him outside of class in a more than a week. They were still no closer to solving the mystery of CTS and tensions were high. Being undercover for months without one sign, one single clue to let them know they weren't just wasting their time had left all three of them frustrated and short tempered. She had fought with Severus—of course she'd fought with him, they did all the time—but this particular argument had been truly awful. And in true hard-headed fashion, both refused to concede their position and apologize first.

Hermione checked her watch and began to pack up her things. She had lost track of time and it was now going to be a mad dash to be punctual. There was an employment counselor speaking at eleven, and the entire class, including the faculty, was expected to attend the seminar.

"Juliet, we need to get going if we're going to make it to the meeting," Hermione said to Jessica in a whisper.

When they were on their way, she continued, "I don't want to deal with Mr. Slade glowering at me the whole time if we're late. I just don't think I'd be able to take it today."

"Harmony, you really should try to talk to him. You've become too … close to let something like a silly little argument come between the two of you."

"Silly? It wasn't silly, he—"

"I was there, remember?" Jessica cut her off. "It was silly. The two of you need to make amends before the end of term, before you lose each other."

"Lose each other? What are you talking about?" Hermione began, but Jessica had started racing up the stairs, forcing Hermione to rush to catch her. When she exited the staircase, Jessica was already entering the double doors of the conference area. She gave Hermione a huge grin before slipping into the room, making a show of closing the doors behind her.

With nothing to obstruct her, Hermione now had a clear view of Severus Snape, who had been hidden behind the door, dressed in his whites, looking terribly handsome.

Sighing quietly, she lifted her head and walked toward the door, ignoring him.

"Harmony, wait …"

She turned her head and gave him a questioning look, her pride still smarting from their last battle of wills.

"I've been searching for you all morning. I need to talk to you." His expression appeared pained, as if he had difficulty saying the words. "I was … unfair to you the other day. I've spent the last week deciding how to approach you and what to say." He paused and took a step closer to her. "I would be a fool to let my pride be the reason I lose your companionship."

Hermione felt her heart soar. No, it wasn't exactly an apology, but it would do for now. She reached out and touched his arm lightly. She wondered what he'd do if she kissed him right now. He must feel something for her to go out of his way like this, but maybe he just cared for her as a friend. Perhaps this new Snape would make amends to anyone he wronged. She'd better not try anything rash. She wouldn't want to be humiliated if he pulled away.

"I … thank you, I think," she said, her smile bright but lopsided. "We can discuss this later. We're late for the seminar." She pulled open the door to the right, stepping behind it so he had to enter first. "After you, Mr. Slade."

Snape gave her a pleased grin and walked across the threshold. Hermione followed but halted rather quickly when Severus didn't continue his way into the room.

"Mr. Slade?" She raised her arm, touching the small of his back. He was rigid and unyielding and started to tip forward when she gave him a slight push. Grabbing the back of his shirt, she steadied him. He had been hexed, but by whom she couldn't determine.

Suddenly she heard a familiar voice speaking loudly.

"There are many fine dining establishments in Britain, and several graduates of The World Culinary Arts School of Cooking Design have taken advantage of my services to attain positions in places such as _Enoteca Turi_ …"

Her blood ran cold. _Enoteca Turi_ was the restaurant where Kingsley had been infected with CTS.

She cautiously peeked around Severus' body to confirm the voice belonged to whom she believed it did.

She held in a gasp of surprise. Although her brain had registered that it was indeed Percy Weasley speaking, she didn't believe it until her eyes rested fully on his figure standing before the room. Her classmates, even Jessica, seemed entranced by his words, and she quickly hid behind Severus again before he looked her way.

Percy Weasley? Shit. This man, her friend, practically her brother, might be the mastermind they were looking for. How could this be? She shook her head in disbelief.

Taking another look, she saw Percy open a box and pull his wand out of his jacket.

That was all the confirmation Hermione needed. He would never brandish his wand in front of so many Muggles unless he was intending to use it on them.

She slowly backed out of the door hoping that he hadn't seen her behind the large shoulders of Snape. She needed to warn the Ministry. With Snape and Jessica out of commission, it would be completely irresponsible for her to try to detain Percy all by herself.

Hermione looked at her watch and quickly calculated the time difference. It was eleven in the morning here so it would be five in the evening in London. She'd have to hurry to catch Director Careme before he left for the day. Luckily with Kingsley at the helm, the Ministry had joined the twenty-first century. He had incorporated certain Muggle technology within the building and had installed telephones in every office. He had hoped the telephones would be used instead of the parchment airplane memos that zoomed through the building. Of course, in true wizarding fashion, most of the non-Muggle-borns refused to use them unless absolutely necessary.

She ran down the hall and into the women's loo, searching for her mobile in the monstrosity of a bag she carried. Hitting the speed dial, she called her supervisors direct line. After several rings, the answering machine picked up, and Hermione cancelled the call. She tried the liaison to the Unspeakables but found no luck there either. Damn! Wasn't anyone working late? She called a few of the other ministry numbers but was disappointed when answering machines picked up on those lines, too.

She was getting desperate; twenty minutes had passed since she'd left Snape in the doorway, and she was almost certain that Percy would soon be finished putting whatever enchantments on her classmates that was needed to do his bidding.

How was she going to communicate with the Aurors? What she wouldn't give for a Floo connection right now.

Racking her brain, she remembered the charmed coin she had in her wallet. She and the boys still carried them as a reminder of those dark years and the power of the friendship they had formed. She hoped the _Protean Charm_ was still active; it had been ages since she had used the thing. She touched her wand to the coin and activated the charm. This would blow her cover as an Unspeakable, but perhaps Director Careme would modify Harry's memory, and she'd be able to retain her position. She doubted it though, but honestly, it didn't matter. They needed to take Percy into custody, preferably alive, and force him to give them the antidote. They had to get this case solved no matter what.

_Help. Percy is CTS. Come now. NY._

She hoped that would be enough as she couldn't fit anything else on the coin. She had put a sort of homing system on them when she first created them, since she had been worried they would fall into the wrong hands and used against the members of the DA. Now it would give Harry the exact coordinates for him to find her. If he got the message, it would still take him a little over an hour to get here. Transcontinental Portkey travel was so damn slow.

She stole a peek into the hallway but didn't see anyone there. Keeping her wand out as a precaution, she slowly exited the bathroom. She needed to find Severus and Jessica and make sure they weren't harmed. It was kind of weird, but she hadn't cared for two people this much since Harry and Ron.

"_Expelliarmus,_" a cold voice boomed from behind her.

Her wand flew from her hand, and she whipped around to see Percy standing menacingly in the middle of the hall with both wands in his hand.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Hermione Granger. And to think I was shocked to see that Death Eater Snape walk into my little party. Fancy you being here, too. I suppose you're in cahoots with him, eh? A good Gryffindor girl like yourself associating with that scum." He wrinkled his nose at the thought.

Hermione felt it was best to remain silent for the moment. Percy had a wild look in his eyes, and she thought she should let him rant for a moment before she tried to talk her way out of this. He hadn't actually said anything incriminating yet, and it would be better to have a memory of a confession with as little confabulation as possible to give the Aurors when they arrived. Harry might have a hard time believing the worst of a Weasley.

"What, nothing to say?" He moved a step closer to her, and Hermione took a step backwards to match him.

"Then I guess I'll have to dispose of you like I did that traitor."

"Wait, Percy. We're friends, aren't we?"

Percy's face was hard, his jaw locked tight and his eyes narrowed with each word she spoke.

Hermione continued to appeal to his humanity. "Percy, you're not this person. You'd never hurt me, you're better than that," she pleaded, trying to figure a way to get her wand back. Her numerous non-verbal _Accios_ didn't seem to be working against him.

"You don't know me. I'm a new and improved Percy Weasley. I don't take shit from anyone anymore. I'm making them all pay for the way they treated me. So don't try to appeal to my better nature, as I simply don't have one," he snarled.

"I do know you, Percy. You're the person who first befriended me—"

He cut her off before she could finish. "Shut up and turn around."

She did as she was told, loathing the fact she had to turn her back to him.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, her voice a bit shaky. "Hex me in the back?"

Percy laughed at that. His laugh sounded as though he were teetering on the edge of insanity. Hermione's heart beat faster within her chest.

"Move," he whispered harshly in her ear, the wands pressed firmly into her back.

She didn't try to talk to him as he led her down the stairs and into the empty kitchens.

When they reached the middle of the room, he stopped and came around to face her.

"Why are you doing this, Percy? Why are you indiscriminately ruining people's lives?" she asked, attempting one last desperate plea.

"People?" he snorted. "They aren't people, they're politicians. Crooked, every last one of them. All they do is litter people's lives with broken promises and flood the papers with their sordid little scandals. They deserve this. They deserve to be humiliated the way they humiliated me." His voice was high-pitched and frenzied as he spit out the words.

"This is about revenge, Percy?" she asked incredulously. "This whole thing has been about some personal vendetta? You're bringing down the world. The whole world, not just the people that have wronged you! Don't you see how awful this is? If you take out all of the politicians, the government breaks down. With no government to rule the people, there is chaos. Is that what you want? World chaos?" she asked, stalling for time. Another half an hour or so and Harry would arrive, she hoped.

"Please, the world is in constant turmoil with their leadership as it is. We're better off without the lot of them," he said and pointed the wands at her again. "They can all stay locked away forever in the loony bins, for all I care."

"So you mean there isn't an antidote? All of those people that have come down with this … this disease can't be cured?"

"Oh, if I wanted to reverse the potion I could. I just don't want to. Now, enough of your rambling questions." He nodded his head toward the freezer. "It's time for you to join the swine I caught earlier." Percy laughed manically then. "Who would have guessed a Weasley would ever get the better of Snape."

He jabbed her with his wand as he kept hers trained on her and forced her to start moving toward the walk-in freezer. When they reached the door, he ordered her to open it.

Before she could touch the handle, he started laughing again. "Wait," he shrieked sounding like the madman he'd clearly become. "I have an idea. Oh, this is just brilliant, Granger. Since you're so worried about what I did to those _poor politicians_ I think … yes, I think you should experience the same." He produced a miniscule bottle from his pocket. "One drop, that's all that's needed."

"Don't do this, Percy."

"Open your mouth," he ground out dangerously.

Hermione's went owl-eyed, desperately trying to think of something to keep him from dosing her.

"I said open you bloody mouth, Granger."

When she refused, he screamed, "_Imperio_!"

Hermione felt her body relax and heard a sort of buzzing sound in her ears, almost as if she were underwater. Though she tried to fight it when Percy ordered her to open her mouth, her body complied. He placed a drop on her tongue and wrenched open the freezer door, pushing her down on her knees saying, "_Finite_," as he slammed the heavy door shut.

She shook her head, dizzy from the curse he had just released and shakily got to her feet. She tried to wrench open the door.

"Hermione?" Snape said his teeth chattering from the cold. "You won't be able to open it. He has sealed it somehow. Even wandless magic won't work. I've tried."

She turned in the direction of his voice and gasped. He was huddled up in the corner almost blue with cold.

"Severus, you're freezing," she stated unnecessarily. Narrowing her eyes at him, she proceeded to take off her jumper. "I've an idea. Come here, I'll warm you up."

"What?" he said, his eyes widening in disbelief as he looked directly at her barely-clad chest. "I really don't think your jumper will fit me, Hermione," he finished rather lamely.

"Of course not, you silly man. Now take off your shirt. Don't you know that skin to skin contact is needed for our body heat to warm us?"

"Hermione?" he asked, confused but staring at her midriff now.

"See something you like? You know, I've been wanting to see _you_ bare-chested since this first time I saw you in class. When you took off your jacket later and I saw all those muscles you were hiding, I just about wet my pants. Damn, you looked good! Why do you always wear so many clothes all the time anyway?"

Snape actually gaped at her.

"You look funny, rather like a codfish, I think." She laughed. "Hurry up and take off your shirt. I'm starting to freeze."

A look of understanding crossed over his face. "That idiot dosed you, didn't he?"

"Of course he did. He's a madman! I suppose he thought it would be funny to lock me in here with you. He probably thought I'd call you all sorts of nasty things instead of telling you all the nasty things I want to do to you."

Severus stood then and grabbed her jumper from where she had dropped it.

"Are you taking off your shirt now?" she asked, rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm herself. "You really should you know. It's damn cold in here. Plus, I want to feel your skin against mine."

"No, Hermione, and you need to put your jumper back on, please," he replied, holding out the offending garment.

Her teeth were beginning to chatter. "But I don't want to. This is the only way I'm ever going to get to see you without a shirt on." She clamped her teeth together and pouted.

He slipped the jumper over her head. "Put your arms in, and then I'll hold you. Okay?" he said almost tenderly.

"You will?" she asked brightly, beaming as she looked up into his face

"Yes, I don't want either of us to freeze."

"Oh." Her expression darkened. "You want to hold me just to stay warm." She jerked away from him and put her arms through her sleeves.

"I hate this! I _finally_ find a man who keeps me on my toes mentally, one who I find terribly attractive, one who I wouldn't hesitate to jump in the sack with, and he just likes me as a friend."

"Hermione …"

"Don't try to pacify me, Severus. I know I'm not the most attractive woman and not very experienced, but for Merlin's sake, I spent my teenage years as the best friend to two boys! I tried to have boyfriends, but those two dunderheads would frighten them off before I could even get a kiss in let alone a decent shag. I didn't get laid until Ron and I slept together and that was out of sheer desperation! What a way to lose my virginity, huh? Ten seconds of that ginger-haired menace grunting on top of me."

"Hermione …"

"He was awful in the sack, too. I don't see how Luna puts up with him honestly. You know, I used to wonder about him and Harry. He always seemed more attached to Harry than was strictly right. Maybe he's really a closet homosexual. I wonder if the two of them ever experimented. It wouldn't surprise me really. Hmmm, though I do wonder who topped."

"Hermione," Severus said louder and grabbed her mid-stride. "I really don't want to hear another word about those two." He wrapped her in his cold arms and brought her in close to him.

"Oh my!" she practically swooned. "You feel absolutely heavenly, and you smell so nice. Damn! Why did I say that?" she babbled.

Hugging her arms around him tightly, she continued talking into his chest, "I wish you wanted me. I suppose you like Jessica better. She's young and cute, and I've seen the way you look at her."

"I don't want Jessica, Hermione," Severus said into her hair. His warm breath on the top of her head made her shiver but not from the cold.

She pulled away and gave him a look. "You don't bat for the other team do you?"

He laughed at that. "No, much to the disappointment of a certain Malfoy."

"It's just me then," she said dejectedly and hid her face back in his chest. "I …"

"I never said that, Hermione." He stroked the side of her face, pushing her slightly away, and gently raised her chin with his finger.

"You're right, you haven't, but the way you treat me, you've never once …"

He placed his finger on her lip. "Shhh, Hermione. I want you. As a matter of fact, I want you more than anyone I have ever wanted before. I just never imagined the feeling was mutual until now." With those words, he bent and replaced his finger with his soft lips.

Hermione sighed contentedly as she felt his lips press chastely against hers. Despite the freezing conditions, she felt her blood begin to heat and moaned when he broke the kiss and began nuzzling her neck instead.

"That's it?" she cried. "One little virtuous kiss. I thought you said you wanted me."

Snape hummed quietly in response, and she gasped as she felt his tongue caress her skin, sliding down the curve of her neck, burning a trail to the sensitive juncture of her shoulder. He placed kisses on his way back up to her ear, hot hungry kisses, nipping and sucking every inch of her exposed skin.

"No need to rush in, Hermione; you know what they say about fools and angels," he whispered hoarsely in her ear.

"You're a—"

Her words were lost as his mouth covered hers.

Her mind went blank and all thought was lost. She could only feel. Feel his body hot against hers, her heart pounding in her chest, his lips gently exploring her mouth.

Her hand twined through his hair, and she returned his kiss with every ounce of her being.

There was a clanking noise behind them, and Severus stiffened under her touch. "Hermione," he croaked, reluctantly pulling away from her. "I think …" he gasped as her mouth found his throat, "I think someone is outside the door."

"I don't give a damn!" she mumbled and continued to lick and kiss his neck.

Snape threw his head back and moaned when her free hand brushed against the thin cotton of his trousers. Hermione acted on impulse alone when she took her hand and covered the hard bulge she found there and gently squeezed.

At that exact moment, the door burst open, and she heard a familiar voice cry, "Hermione, thank Merlin! We caught Percy, and after a dose of Veritaserum he told us he had thrown you in here with …" he stopped short as Hermione turned to look at him, and he was able to get a clear view of what she and Professor Snape were doing.

"You have always had the worst sense of timing Harry bloody Potter," she yelled. Releasing the only thing she wanted to think about right now, the hardened member of the man she lusted after, she rounded on Harry to continue her tirade.

She was cut off mid-thought when Severus laid his hand on her shoulder. "As much as I appreciate you charging in like an arrogant knight in shining armor, Potter, I have to agree with _Harmony_," he said, sneering at Harry.

Hermione turned back to Snape with a smile. "Go away, Harry." She pulled Severus' head down to meet her lips.

A red-faced and confused looking Harry stood next to a beaming Jessica in the open doorway.

"Hermione?" he stuttered. "Snape? I … I don't understand. Why'd you call her Harmony?"

"Of course you don't understand, Harry," said Jessica, patting his arm and turning him away from the two. "I'll explain everything, but for now I think we should leave the two of them alone.

"Hermione, Severus," she called, and when they both turned their heads in her direction, she tossed them their wands and backed from the room with Harry in tow, shutting the door on their way out.


End file.
